Harry Potter and the Different Summer
by Gale Abbey
Summary: Vernon Dursley goes too far in the summer after Book 5, and Harry decides to do something about it.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

Harry Potter looked out the window, and sighed. It was raining. Again. He had been at the Dursleys for three long days, and he sincerely wished that Mad-Eye Moody had not had a talk with Uncle Vernon. Instead of cowing the Dursleys, it had only infuriated them even more, especially his uncle. Vernon had not hit him yet, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time until he did. He just hoped the Order let him leave before that moment arrived.

He glanced at the clock; it read 6:30 AM. Uncle Vernon would be getting up soon. This meant that he would be given yet _another _insanely long list of chores to complete. He had managed to do everything the Dursleys told him to so far, but he knew that eventually they would give him too much. He had a sinking feeling that when that happened, Vernon would lose what little control he had left.

"When that happens, I'm leaving," Harry muttered. "I don't care what Dumbledore says, I refuse to put up with that anymore. The only problem is that I have nowhere to go. I can't go to the Burrow; that will just endanger the Weasleys. Hogwarts is out. Lupin's a possibility, though he might go to Dumbledore." He sighed. "Sirius would've helped." _And it's my fault that he can't_, he silently added.

A tapping on his window interrupted his musings. Harry looked up, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw that the owl was not Hedwig. The bird glared at him through the window as if to say, "Open the window already, it's raining out here!" Harry quickly reached over and pushed open the window. The bird hopped in, and stuck out its leg impatiently. He untied the letter. The bird ruffled its wet feathers and flew back out the window.

Harry turned over the letter and gave a strangled yelp when he saw the handwriting. "Sirius," he breathed. His hands trembled as he broke the seal and opened the letter. Inside was a sheet of parchment, a golden key, and a wad of muggle cash. Setting the last two items aside, he unfolded the parchment and began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you're reading this, then I have kicked the bucket, hopefully doing something heroically stupid. (I'd hate to have died by choking on a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean, for instance.) However it happened, don't blame yourself, especially if I was protecting you. I was your godfather; it was my job. But more importantly, if I had to die, that's the way I want to go. That, and James would have come back and killed me if I didn't protect you. I don't even _want _to think about what Lily would do._

_Now that that is out of the way, I want to give you some advice; don't let anyone, and I mean ANYONE, keep you from being happy. (This includes Tom, Dumbledore, the Dursleys, and especially that git Snivellus.) I know what the Dursleys are like, and I don't care WHAT Dumbledore says, you do NOT have to stay there. And before you say anything about wards and blood protection, there are other places just as safe where there aren't any Dursleys. _

_I know you have no idea what I'm talking about, and for that, you can blame Dumbledore. He didn't want me to tell you, but I will anyway. Don't get me wrong, Dumbledore's a great man, but sometimes he only sees the forest, not the trees, if you'll excuse the cliché. I know you're getting impatient, so I'll get on with it. You don't have just the one vault at Gringotts, Harry. The key to the second one is in the envelope. Technically, you're not supposed to be able to get in it before you're 17, but if you have permission (and you do) from your guardian (that's me) you can access it earlier (like now). Just show the goblins this letter and they should let you in. I've added a few things to the vault, so don't be surprised if you find some stuff with the Black Family crest. Most of it is stuff I wanted you to have, and since I'm still on the run, I couldn't give it to you in a will. (I left this with Moony, just in case). Just promise me that you won't open the black chest with the silver trim. There's some nasty stuff in there that I didn't want Bella or Narcissa to get their slimy hands on. When you have a chance, give it to Snivellus; much as I dislike the greasy git, he's the only one in the you-know-what (not to be confused with Snakeface's troupe) that knows how to dispose of certain items in the chest. _

_Among the things I left for you, you'll find two copies of __The Complete Collection of Marauder Pranks__. Give Gred and Forge the newer copy, and tell them to go to Moony if they have any questions. I wanted you to have the original. It was written by Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs (we excluded that traitorous little shit Wormtail; he couldn't write worth a damn). _

_Oh, and one more thing. No more brooding; if I know you (and I do), you've done enough of that already. I told Moony to wait a week or two before sending this, so I know you've had time to brood about my death. Be happy for once, play a few pranks in my honor. (If you need a fellow mischief-maker, might I suggest a certain redhead's sister?) _

_Love,_

_Padfoot_

_P.S. The cash is for emergencies; use it if you get stuck in the muggle world._

_PPS. Give Moldiewarts hell for me!_

Harry stared at the letter for what seemed like a long time, thinking about what

Sirius had said. He was startled when someone banged on his door.

"BOY," his uncle shouted, "IF YOU DON'T GET UP THIS INSTANT YOU'LL WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN." Harry could hear his uncle stomp down the stairs and into the kitchen. He quickly stuffed everything back into the envelope and shoved it under his mattress. He then followed his uncle down the stairs.

Vernon was waiting for him when he reached the kitchen. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO HAVE BREAKFAST READY WHEN I GET UP?!" Harry cringed; he had a bad feeling that his uncle had finally lost it. "YOU'RE GONNA PAY THIS TIME, BOY!" Harry only had time to think, _oh shit_, before Vernon grabbed his arm and viciously twisted it. He heard a sickening _crack_, and fire shot up his arm. Vernon let go and, as if nothing had happened, said, "There's a list of chores for you on the refrigerator. Petunia and Dudley left last night for Marge's and won't be back 'til next week. You better have finished those chores by the time I get back."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said Harry, through clenched teeth. _Yeah right,_ he thought. _I'm leaving first chance I get._ Vernon shoved Harry aside, and left the house for work. Harry listened tensely until he could no longer hear Vernon's car.

The first thing he did was wrap a makeshift split around his arm. Then, ignoring the pain in his arm, he opened the phonebook and looked up the number for a taxi service. He dialed the number and told them his address. "Good thing Sirius gave me that money," he muttered as he went up the stairs.

When he got to his room, he was glad to see that Hedwig had returned. He went over to her and said, "Hedwig, could you meet me at the Leaky Cauldron?" She hooted in response, and flew out the window. He then dragged his trunk out of the closet, wincing when it jarred his arm. _Good thing I never really unpacked_, he thought. He opened the trunk, and threw in the few things he _had_ unpacked. He reached under the mattress, grabbed the letter from Sirius, and stuffed it in his pocket.

He took one last look around the room, his eyes lingering regretfully on Hedwig's cage. _I wish I could take it with me, _he thought. _But I can't carry it and the trunk with only one arm. Oh well. I can always get another one. _

The honking of a horn jerked him out of his reverie. _The taxi!_ He grabbed hold of the trunk and hurried down the stairs, gritting his teeth against the pain it caused. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, amazed that he was finally leaving this place for good. The pain in his arm reminded him why he had called the taxi in the first place. He shook his head to clear it, and left the house.

Harry handed the driver his trunk, ignoring the odd look his arm got. "Where to?" the driver asked.

"The nearest hospital," Harry replied. _I wish I could go to St. Mungo's, _Harry thought. _If I do they'll recognize me, and tip off Dumbledore. _Harry stared out the window, still ignoring the curious looks the driver was giving him.

"Here we are," said the driver. "You, want me to wait for you?" Harry shook his head, and paid the fee. _I feel kind of silly dragging a trunk through a hospital, _he thought as he walked up to the receptionist's desk. _Although, I'd feel even sillier if I had Hedwig with me._

"How can I help you?" she asked, without looking up from her magazine.

"Broke my arm," he said curtly.

"Sit down over there and we'll get to you shortly," she said, pointing to a row of seats. Harry sat down in the hard plastic seat and set his trunk on end it front of him so it would out of the way as much as possible. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to doze off, he heard his name being called. He opened his eyes, and sat up to see an orderly with a clip board standing in front of him.

"Follow me please," the orderly said, leading him to an exam room. While waiting for the doctor to arrive, the orderly began to fill out his chart. When asked for his name and age, Harry lied, and said, "My name's Thomas Neville, and I'm seventeen." The orderly raised his eyebrows, but before he could say anything, the doctor arrived.

"What have we got, Bill?" he asked.

"Kid with a broken arm," Bill answered, then leaned over to the doctor and whispered something in his ear. The doctor nodded, and then walked over to Harry. As his arm was being set, Harry studied the doctor. He was an older man, with graying hair and light blue eyes set behind a pair of gold wire-framed glasses. He was very short, only about 5'3", and slightly pudgy. Harry got the impression that he was a cheerful man.

His examination of the doctor was interrupted when the doctor said, "So kid, what's your _real_ name and age, and how'd you break your arm?" Harry gaped at him in shock. _How had he figured it out?_ Harry thought frantically.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stuttered. The doctor just looked at him, an amused expression on is face.

"My guess is, you're about fourteen or fifteen, and you don't want to be recognized because either the people you're staying with somehow or another broke your arm, or you broke it doing something you shouldn't've been doing. Which is it?" Harry stared at him in shock.

"The first," he mumbled. "How—" he started, and then broke off, unable to say anything further.

"How'd I know?" Harry nodded. "Kid, I've worked in this ER for almost twenty years; I've seen a lot of kids like you. On the run," he replied, glancing towards Harry's trunk. "Hold on, I'm gonna set your arm," he warned. Pain shot up his arm as the bones were moved back in place.

"Ow," Harry muttered, when it subsided to a dull throbbing. The doctor raised his eyebrows at Harry's mild reaction.

"Your lack of reaction seems to indicate that this has happened before," the doctor said meaningfully. Harry looked up in confusion.

"What? Oh, you mean—. No, I play sports at my school." The doctor looked at him skeptically. "This was the first time he's done anything this extreme," Harry said softly, in answer to the doctor's unspoken question. He was given a doubtful look in return. The doctor shook his head, and turned his attention back to Harry's arm.

"Kid," said the doctor, "are you just running blindly away, or have you got a destination in mind?"

"I-I'm not sure. I was just going to go empty my bank account and then stay in a hotel somewhere out of the way until school starts, but now I'm not so sure." Harry stared at the cast that was slowly taking shape on his arm.

"Can I make a suggestion?" asked the doctor. Harry nodded cautiously. "While your plan would work, what about next summer, and the one after that? If you use up all your money this summer, you won't be able to escape again in the future." Harry's eyes widened; he hadn't thought of that. _There is no way in _hell _that I am ever going back to the Dursley's, _he thought. "If there is anyone at all that you think you can trust, I would suggest that you go to them; you might be pleasantly surprised with the results. Besides, it would get awfully lonely staying in that hotel by yourself for the rest of the summer."

Harry watched as the doctor put the finishing touches on the cast. _Is there anyone I can go to? If only Sirius were still alive, _he thought wistfully. _He would help me, although I don't know how long the Dursleys would survive once he found out what happened. He would probably get Remus and—_ Harry's thoughts came to a sudden halt. _Remus. I can go to Remus!_

"There might be someone I can go to," Harry said in a soft voice. "My parents trusted him, before they died. And my godfather S-Sirius did to." The doctor nodded.

"Do you have a way to get in touch with him?" he asked.

"I can take the Underground to his house," Harry replied.

"Good. Well, I think you're all set to go. The cast should be able to come off in six weeks, and just remember not to do anything too strenuous with that arm in the meantime."

"Thank you for your help," Harry said, grabbing hold of his trunk. The doctor watched as the young man left the room, pulling his trunk behind him. Shaking his head, the doctor cleaned up the room, picked up his chart, and made his way to the staffroom.

"You were right Bill," he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "The kid was a run away. I'm pretty sure whoever he was with was abusing him. At least he's not running blind now. I managed to convince him to go to someone that he trusts." The doctor took a sip of his coffee.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Bill asked.

"I think he will be Bill. I think he will."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is unfortunately not mine.

A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers!

**Chapter 2:**

Harry trudged wearily up the stairs from the Underground to the street above, dragging his trunk along behind him. He was tired; between his nightmares about the Department of Mysteries and the Dursleys, it had been a _very _long time since he had slept well or soundly. The fact that his arm was throbbing in time with every step he took did not help matters any. With relief, Harry realized that he had finally reached the top of the stairs. "Stupid escalator," he muttered, glaring at the motionless metal stairs beneath his feet. "I mean, why _should_ it work? That would be entirely too convenient."

Stepping out of the station, Harry stopped short in dismay; the merely overcast day had devolved into one that included sheets of rain. "Great, as if my day wasn't bad enough!" Harry groaned. He looked around in vain for a taxi. _Merlin forbid I should be so lucky, _he thought. Resigning himself to a long, wet walk, Harry left the relative safety of the awning in front of the station. Immediately his hair was plastered to his head and his shirt soaked through. He swiped ineffectually at his glasses. _I knew I should have had Hermione renew that spell on my glasses, _he thought.

Harry continued his slow trek for several long blocks before stopping at a street corner. Squinting at the street sign through the falling rain, he was barely able to make out the name of the street. "Grimmauld Place. Finally. Don't think the Blacks could have managed to live any farther away from the Underground," Harry muttered. With a bit more energy, Harry turned down the street, stopping when he came to where number 12 should have been.

_The headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve Grimmauld Place, London,_ Harry thought, while picturing the note given to him by Moody the summer before. He watched with relief as Number 12 squeezed itself into existence between the two townhouses to either side. He climbed the few steps to the door, and taking a deep breath, he grasped the tarnished knocker, and thudded it twice against the door. There was a brief moment of silence, and then Harry winced as he heard the shrill screams of the portrait of Mrs. Black. Soon after, her screams were joined by hurried footsteps and faint curses. Harry was barely able to make out someone shouting, "Shut _up_ you infernal woman!" before the door was yanked open. Standing in the door before him was a slightly unkempt, out of breath Remus.

"Remus," Harry croaked, unsure of what exactly to say.

"Harry! What in Merlin's name—" he began, before cutting himself short. Of all the people that he had expected to be knocking on the Fidelius hidden door, Harry was not one of them. Harry was supposed to be safely ensconced with the Dursleys, dreadful though they were, in Little Whinging. He was _not _supposed to be standing on the doorstep of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, soaked to the bone, complete with luggage, and sporting what appeared to be a muggle cast, of all things, on his arm. Remus shook his head slightly. "Let's get you in out of the rain," he said, pulling Harry into the house.

Motioning for Harry to leave his trunk in the hall, Remus quickly led him down to the much warmer kitchen. He gently pushed Harry into a chair next to the hearth, then set about pouring them both a cup of tea. "Now," said Remus, as he set a warm cup of tea in front of Harry while taking the chair opposite him, "why don't you tell me how you came to be here, on the same day I received an owl saying you were alright, if understandably depressed. And, if I'm not mistaken, with a broken arm.

Harry stared at the cup between his hands, watching the steam as it curled and twisted its way into the room. "I-I don't know where to start," he said, still not looking at Remus.

Remus softly placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, obviously something changed greatly since you sent the letter. Why don't you start with what happened after you gave the letter to Hedwig, and go from there?"

"Well," Harry started, "after I sent Hedwig off with the letter, I tried to go to sleep, but I kept dreaming about S-Sirius f-falling, and—" he stopped and took a shaky breath. "Around six or so I gave up on trying to get anymore sleep, and I was staring out the window when an owl came. I-It had a letter from Sirius. I don't really want to talk about it, but you can read it later. He told me to stop brooding." A tear ran unnoticed down his cheek. He sniffled a bit before continuing. "After I finished reading the letter, Uncle Vernon banged on the door, and yelled for me to get up." Harry stopped, and looked up at Remus for the first time. Remus drew in a sharp breath; he had seen the look in Harry's eyes before. He had seen it in the eyes of Sirius, after spending the summer at home, and in his own eyes reflected back at him in the mirror. _I don't think I'm going to like what happens next,_ Remus thought with a sense of dread.

"He was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs," Harry said, his gaze fixed at a point beyond Remus' shoulder. "He said I should have had breakfast waiting for him. After—After, I waited until he left, then I called a taxi, grabbed my trunk, and left. Went to the hospital, told them my name was Thomas Neville and that I was seventeen. The doctor didn't believe me; he asked me if I was running with a plan in mind. I told him that I thought I would stay in a hotel for the rest of the summer, but he convinced me that it would be better to get help from someone I trusted. So, here I am." Harry turned is gaze back to his teacup, and gave a small shiver.

Remus noted that despite sitting next to the warm hearth, Harry was still chilled. "Why, Remus?" Harry asked, looking up. "Why does it always happen to me?"

"Oh Harry," Remus said, getting up to stand in front of Harry. "I can't answer that, though I wish I could. I can however, do something about Vernon Dursley. You are _never_ going back to that house, no matter what anyone says." Remus said this so forcefully that Harry jerked his attention to the man in front of him.

"You aren't going to kill him are you?" Harry asked fearfully. Remus grinned, his face taking on a slightly predatory look.

"That would be too good for the likes of Vernon Dursley. I have something much more fitting in mind. We will, however, need to enlist the help of a few select individuals," he said, with a thoughtful look on his face. Harry wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or terrified. Remus was, after all, the last true Marauder.

"All that can wait for tomorrow; you look like you're about to keel over." Indeed, Harry was looking somewhat worse for the wear; he was hunched forward, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes half closed. "Let's get you upstairs, into some dry clothes and into bed. I think I can even come up with some Dreamless Sleep potion." Remus helped Harry to his feet, then gently nudged him in the direction of the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

As Harry slowly regained consciousness, he became aware that he was not in his own bed. For one thing, there were no snores coming from the room next door; for another, there was a distinct lack of screeching from his Aunt Petunia. _And this mattress is way too comfortable, _Harry thought. _It's almost like my bed at Hogwarts. _Harry cautiously opened his eyes, but he only saw a dark blur. He tried to push himself up, to reach for his glasses, but he collapsed back onto the bed as a burning lance of pain shot up his arm. The unpleasant memories of the day before came flooding back; his livid Uncle, the all-too-perceptive doctor at the hospital, and, of course, Remus. _I'm at Grimmauld Place_, he thought. _He promised me that I won't ever have to go back to the Dursleys. _

With that cheerful thought, Harry once more attempted to get out of bed, this time avoiding putting any weight on his broken arm. He reached blindly towards where he thought the bedside table, and his glasses, should be. Finding them, he shoved them onto his nose, and the room came sharply into focus. As was typical for the Black House; the bedroom was dark, shabby, and had a distinct snake them. There were snakes winding up the bedposts, and woven into the bed curtains and the rug; there was even a snake engraved on the door handle. Harry shuddered.

"If we stay here for very long, we are _so _going to have to do something about those snakes," he muttered. "They're creepy." _I keep expecting Snape to emerge from the shadows, _Harry thought.

Harry slowly opened his bedroom door. He crept through the opening, closing the door quietly behind him. He walked carefully down the hall, making sure to keep clear of the tapestries and wall hangings as images of venomous dark creatures popping out at him flowed through his mind. As Harry descended through the house, he slowly became aware of a low murmur of voices emanating from the kitchen. Warily he crept down the stairs, and pressed his ear against the door.

"Dumbledore, I'm telling you that there's no evidence that he's at the Dursleys' at all," came the voice of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Didn't you say that Petunia and Dudley are gone too?" Harry heard Remus ask. "I'm sure he's with them. Harry knows how important it is for him to stay at the Dursleys."

"Remus has a valid point, Alastor," said Dumbledore. "We'll wait for the return of Petunia and Dudley before we take any more action."

"But--" Mad-Eye started to object, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"You said yourself Mad-Eye, that there was no Death Eater activity anywhere near Privet Drive. I'm sure Harry is perfectly safe with his Aunt, but just in case, I want you to keep up the watch on Number 4." Harry heard several footsteps, and then the swoosh of the floo.

"Remus do you want to tell me why you convinced Dumbledore that Harry was safe with his Aunt and cousin when he's standing with his ear pressed against the kitchen door?" Harry sheepishly pushed open the door and stepped into the kitchen. At the kitchen table sat Mad-Eye Moody and Remus Lupin.

"Harry," said Remus, half standing, "I thought you would still be asleep. Here, sit down." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Did you sleep well? Do you need a pain reducing potion for your arm?" At the last question, Moody's eyes snapped to the white cast on Harry's arm.

"What the hell happened to you, Potter?" he asked. "Can't have been the Death Eaters or Dumbledore would've known about it." Moody paused, then nodded decisively. "Must've been Dursley. Can't think of any other reason for you to be injured and have Remus cover for you. Well," he said, standing up, "since it has nothing to do with Voldemort or any of his lackeys, I'll be going. If you need any help just ask. Oh, and Dumbledore won't find out anything from me." With that, he stood up, threw some powder into the fire, and was gone. Harry stared at where the retired Auror had been.

"Well, it looks like we have another ally," said Remus, "and we have a bit of time before we have to come clean with Dumbledore." Harry grimaced at the thought of Dumbledore finding out. "The question is, how to best use that time." Remus got a thoughtful look on his face. "I believe a trip to Gringotts is in order; everything else depends on what, exactly, Sirius had set up with the goblins."


End file.
